xRedeeming a Demonx
by xichxliebexdichx
Summary: DL is the King of Enigmas, and Finch has about had it with that. Mysteries begin to get solved, DL confesses, and their relationship escalates. Shounen-Ai and eventually yaoi. DLxFinch of course. I don't own I Luv Halloween.
1. Chapter 1

Okay. So this is my first-ever attempt at a fanfiction (I like making my own characters _) and it is, of course… DEVIL LAD X FINCH. Which is sexy. As long as they're older, of course, cuz I think in the original I Luv Halloween comics (which are not mine, and in fact belong to TOKYOPOP, Benjamin Roman, and Keith Giffen. ^_^ If you haven't read them, I don't know why you're reading this, so _go read the__ Ultimate Twisted Edition __or something!!_XD Have funtimes.*

I've taken some of the situations from the books and made them a little different, so in a sense, this is OOC… I think. Or just a little off-storyline. You get it. XD ^_^'

And I might've said it, but any and all characters in this chapter DO NOT BELONG TO ME. They're the brilliant ideas of Benjamin Roman and Keith Giffen. I Luv Halloween is published by Tokyopop.

*Yes, I KNOW it's not a real word, but neither is sexytime(s), and Sacha Baron Cohen used it. No one cared when _he_ did. =P =D

* * *

"Did you know 'turgid' means pretentious?"

"Sounds about right: Turgid Meadows, home of the pompous fatheads."

Finch nodded knowingly, weighing his candy bag in his left arm. "This place is full of arrogant adults. We're swimming in the greedy, self-righteous morons." He gave Devil Lad a sideways look, nudging him with an elbow to get him to face him. "Hey, you wanna hit up the next block?"

"Well, _duh_, dude," the devil-masked boy responded. Finch imagined he was grinning under the demented grin painted on that mask.

The group had gotten older; Finch had turned 16 recently, just after Mister Kitty, Pig-Pig was 15, Moochie was about eight, and though he neither confirmed nor denied it, Devil Lad might've been around 17 now. They'd agreed on trick-or-treating until the very end of adolescence – and no one could stop them. Turgid Meadows was at least bountiful and generous this year, unlike it had been the year they'd gotten stuck on a Choco-Willies loop or enveloped with aliens.

Finch trotted up the next house's front steps, slapping the doorbell as Devil Lad came up behind him. The door opened to reveal a falsely ecstatic middle-aged woman with a twitching smile.

"And who do we have _here_?" she said in a typically deranged voice. "Finch, little Finch – I remember when you were still and _itty_ BITTY boy! And your friend…"

"Devil Lad," he offered.

"Yes, _Devil Lad_." She paused, a handful of candy hovering over the boy's bag. "I don't think I know who you are under that mask, actually. Are you from this neighborhood?"

"Possibly," Devil Lad shrugged. The twitchy lady dropped the candy into his bag, and the two boys spun on their heels, leaping off her small porch and running down the street. DL was in the lead, getting to the next house first. Finch's thoughts remained on what the jumpy lady had said.

Once they'd finished the block, Finch subtly directed their walk towards the bluff. For a while, they only walked, neither saying much.

"You're a Poacher, aren't you?" Finch blurted.

"I'm a what?" Devil Lad asked, sounding confused.

"You're not from around here, are you?" he clarified, "You live in the next town or something and only come to Turgid Meadows to hoard candy on Halloween."

"Maybe."

God, _what an annoying response_, Finch reflected a little bitterly. "Goddammit."

"I'm here to trick-or-treat with you guys. Does anything else matter?" Devil Lad allowed carefully, one hand coming out of his front pocket momentarily to wave off the comment. "Do you actually wanna know?"

_Yes_, Finch thought, _then I could talk to you at school or something, too_. "No," he said aloud, turning a little away.

"Fine," came the non-committal response.

The bluff stretched before them, ominous in the dark as they walked along it. Finch had always been curious about Devil Lad's origins, as if the boy were a spy with a secret identity he was _dying_ to discover.

"Answer me this: Do I know you without a mask?" Finch pressed.

Devil Lad chuckled. "I dunno… you tell _me_."

Rolling his eyes under his skull mask, Finch stated skeptically, "I don't recognize your voice. It's not like you're Bruce Wayne – this is real life. You'd hafta be disguising your voice either with or without that mask on… and I'm guessing _with_ it on."

Seeming impressed, Devil Lad's frozen expression faced his own. "Then why ask that question before?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Anyway, this would be true… if that were the case. But, man – why do you care?" He sounded slightly suspicious. _Why didn't he interrogate me earlier_? he questioned in his head.

"Cuz it's kind-of annoying how I only know a night's worth of who you are," Finch replied immediately. He clamped his jaw shut though, worried he'd come off as girly. Either DL didn't notice, or he didn't care.

"…What's it to you?" Devil Lad challenged, unintentionally harsh.

"I WANT TO KNOW," Finch shouted with heat, not knowing why.

There was a dead silence as the two teenagers stopped walking, Finch standing with fists clenched, his candy-bag spilled on the sidewalk. Why was he getting so worked up over this? He had no clue.

Devil Lad didn't move, but stood watching Finch with round, plastic yellow devil's eyes silently. The street lamp above them shone dully; insects buzzed and chirped in the small, swamp-like forest below, down under the bluff, and they could hear bats' wings flap as they chowed down on said bugs. Finch was scowling, even though he knew Devil Lad couldn't see.

"Tell me," he demanded through gritted teeth. Ten years of trick-or-treating and dangerous mischief was enough time to just hypothesize. He and Mr. Kitty had come up with a few theories – the most popular being that DL was from the Bowls of Hell itself… He was "Devil Lad," after all.

The boy in the pink hoodie shook his head. "Can't," he said quietly; Finch detected a hint of regret in DL's tone. "Aaaaaand don't wanna," he added with a shrug, lying casually.

"Why not?"

"It's complicated –"

"I've got _all night_."

Devil Lad paused. He scratched his head, angling away as though debating on the matter. "Finch…" He sighed dramatically. "It's not important," he evaded, "Can we get more candy now, dude?"

Glaring ineffectually, the slightly shorter boy folded his arms. "I've been trick-or-treating with you for ten years, DL – Mr. Kitty and Pig-Pig, too. We can't help but wonder." _Okay, so Pig-Pig and Kitty gave up long ago, but that's beside the point_.

"I doubt Pig-Pig and Kitty give a shit anymore," the hooded boy skepticized, calling on Finch's mild bluff.

"At _least_ take the mask off," Finch asked, frustrated, realizing that was what bothered him the most – he didn't know what Devil Lad _looked like_.

"_No_," Devil Lad said firmly, the second Finch had finished speaking.

"Last time I asked, you gave excuses – tradition and deformity and crap – and it wasn't good enough."

"Finch—"

"I lied when I said I didn't want to know."

"It's _not_ happening," DL seemed to growl, startling Finch enough that the redhead backed away a bit. "Just _drop it_, Finch."

"No way, man," Finch retorted stubbornly. "Why's it such a big deal?"

"That's _my_ line," Devil Lad mumbled, starting to walk away.

"Hey!" Rushing after him, Finch grabbed his shoulder and wheeled him around. "Goddammit," he ground out, shoving the taller boy a little. "Devil Lad!"

"Knock it _off_, Finch," Devil Lad snapped, swatting Finch's hand away. "The mask stays _on_!"

"Then at least tell me who you are!" Finch roared.

"I'm DEVIL LAD!" he raged back, fronting the smaller boy, a pain stabbing at his chest. "What more do you _want_?!"

Finch didn't answer. He just let Devil Lad stand menacingly over him, a strange, hurt sort of feeling pumping through his veins. _It was a simple enough question,_ thought Finch, _so why is he getting so angry?_ _Why do I bother persisting?_ Neither knew – about each other or the truth.

Well, naturally, Devil Lad knew about himself, and the necessity and reason for his mask, but who was counting?

"I'll take mine off," Finch suggested lowly, backing out from under DL's looming, blank stare. "I will – break tradition and sacredness and everything."

Devil Lad was again surprised. "You – you would?" Halloween was their personal Holy Holiday – keeping your mask on all night long for their group was like keeping the Menorah lit for the full eight days. It had to be done religiously. Finch realized vaguely that he'd been asking the same of Devil Lad, but he dismissed the thought. "What if I've already seen you?"

"HA. You just answered a previous question," Finch said smugly with a hidden smirk. Technically he didn't – but that was just detail, and besides… it threw DL off.

"Huh," Devil Lad grunted, clearly irked.

"So how about it?" Finch urged, determined.

"…No."

"Why _not_?"

"I don't feel like explaining stuff," Devil Lad yawned, having regained his cool. "It's almost midnight, anyway."

"You point? I'm 16 – midnight is _nothing_."

Devil Lad sighed almost sadly. "Finch… you don't really want to know who I am. When tonight is over, you'll forget all about me until next Halloween anyway."

"Dude," Finch scoffed, offended, "No one said I ever forget about you. You're the King of Enigmas, man. I can't stop thinking about you." Too late, he realized how damning what he'd just said was.

Devil Lad froze on the spot, making Finch walk two paces ahead of him before he turned around. "You… what?" DL uttered incredulously.

"Never mind," Finch said hastily, walking again. "You won't answer anything I ask anyway, so forget I ever did."

"No, wait – Finch." A hand gripped the end of his scarf, gagging him briefly; he stopped. "Why do you think about me??"

"I don't _know_," he responded, tugging his scarf back, embarrassed. "You just… stick inside my head. It's not my fault."

"Does it have to be somebody's _fault_?"

"Whatever!" Finch huffed unsurely.

"I think about you too."

Startled, Finch did a double take. "What??"

"You have _no_ idea," the devil-masked boy chuckled. "You haven't even got a _clue_."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?!"

"What do you think it means, Finch?" Devil Lad challenged. When the redhead didn't answer, DL seized his wrist and dragged him unceremoniously down the sidewalk, making for the nearest cover of trees.

"What the hell --? Devil Lad, let _go_, I know how to w—"

Thrown against a wide tree trunk, Finch's breath was knocked out of him. His wrists were pinned to the bark on either side of his head, and a tall, oddly warm body pressed up against his. Finch would've felt threatened, but there was no malice in the movements – only desperation.

"Devil Lad," he said anxiously, "What're you doing?" Wriggling a little, he fought to free his hands from the other's iron grip as they were moved above his head.

"I'm not exactly from Hell," came DL's voice near his ear. "But I'm also not technically from here, either."

"What are you _talking_ about?" A hand covered his mask, and he quickly blurted, "No, _don't_!"

"I don't really need to," DL confessed quietly, pulling his hand back a little.

"Goddammit, get _off_ – and quit speaking in riddles!" He was trying to cover up panic, but it began leaking into his words. "What're you doing?!"

"Do you really want to know about me?" He tightened his grip, suspenseful.

"Devil Lad, you're holding too tight –"

"Cuz you won't like everything you hear."

"That _hurts_, Devil Lad!"

Instantly, Devil Lad released the smaller boy's hands, stepping back to give him space. Finch bent over floppily, massaging his wrists and panting nervously. Devil Lad turned guiltily away, hating himself for harming Finch.

"Devil Lad, what was _that_ all about?" Finch asked lowly, looking over to him, "And what d'you mean, I 'won't like what I hear'?" _How would __he__ know?_

"Trust me," the hooded teenager snorted bitterly.

"_Try_ me," Finch retorted, standing up straight. A street lamp flickered somewhere behind him. "I _dare_ you," he added with a smirk.

_Now_ he had him. They weren't the kind to turn down a dare.

"I'm not entirely human."

Like a deadweight thrown at his face, Devil Lad's words perforated his brain. "Not… human?" Well, that wasn't so hard to believe – what with past years of zombies and aliens and whatnot. "Then what _are_ you?"

"…There isn't a word for it in English."

Finch waited.

"I'm a mix. Sorta. I was born a human. Part of me isn't anymore, though.

"Is that supposed to put me off?"

Devil Lad's mask tilted to the side. "Uh… _doesn't_ it?" he asked disbelievingly. When Finch shook his head, he added, "Yeah, right."

"If anything, you just scored points," Finch chuckled bemusedly. "Is _that_ all you've got?"

"…Are you shitting me?"

"Dude, weirder shit has happened around here."

"…All right, then. But I'm not taking off my mask," DL replied hastily, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket.

"_Fine_," Finch grumbled. Adjusting his scarf, he paused. "You're not from here _or_ Hell? What the fuck?"

"Remember the whole was-born-a-human thing?" Devil sauntered to the edge of the bluff, looking out over the distant city lights. "Well, I was nearly killed, and was offered… basically a second chance. By a demon, of course," he explained solemnly, inclining his head. "I was revived, but changed. My body… is human, but I've got a – I've got a demon soul."

"What happened?" Finch asked with tentative curiosity, approaching him carefully from behind. "Why a demon's soul?"

Devil Lad remained morose. "Demon's souls give them their powers. They heal themselves, and they're nearly indestructible physically besides… and stuff. I was gifted and cursed simultaneously. Ever notice how I never get hurt? Even when all the bizarre shit happens, _every year_? Yet I still feel pain – everything. Humanity isn't gone, I swear. But I'd be twisted, with of without this foreign soul… just like you, Mister Kitty, Pig-Pig, and Moochie… _especially_ Moochie. She's worse than all of us put together, actually."

Finch smirked under his skull mask. His little sister was Queen of the Morbid.

"How were you almost killed?"

Again, the boy in the pink sweatshirt waited to respond. "My step-dad."

A news story from a decade ago scraped at Finch's memory. He recalled distantly seeing a broadcast on morning television, headlining something like, "Mother and child murdered by husband – run over multiple times with a pick-up truck," on Halloween. It happened in town. People forgot all about it by the next year, and Finch was too young to remember.

"That was you?" he questioned quietly, coming to stand next to him.

"…The story is gone. Media for it vanished once I got this soul. No one would remember, and no matter how hard, or where you search, you couldn't find it," Devil Lad went on gravely. His mask turned to face Finch's. "How come _you_ remember?" he wondered aloud, a hint of expectation in his voice. "I knew you were different – but not _that_ different."

"How am I different?" Finch demanded.

"You were the first one to notice me, ten Halloweens ago. According to the demons, I should've been invisible to even the psychically inclined humans for at least three days after I got this soul. But you… you called me out, _literally_ out of the shadows the very same day, and made everyone see me. I even had my mask. You're younger than me, so I just assumed it was childhood senses – you hadn't numbed all your psyches yet, y'know?" Finch nodded a little, completely unknowing of what he was meant to know. "But now I know…

"You're supposed to redeem me."

Finch blinked. "_Excuse_ me?"

Sighing wearily, DL muttered, "Never mind. Sorry, man." Scratching at his hood, he mumbled, "Too much for you to handle right now," before putting both hands in his big front pocket.

Irritated and feeling his pride was threatened, Finch stepped in front of him before he could leave. "Hey – take off your mask." He didn't command, he didn't ask – he just spoke the words. "I wanna see your face."

Devil Lad took a step back. "No. _Way_. Finch."

The redhead stepped even closer to him. "I'm not 'redeeming' anyone who won't even show me his face. I'll take mine off…"

"Do it," DL challenged darkly, leaning back a little for better view.

Wrenching the strap from the back of his head, Finch threw the skull mask to the ground at his feet, scowling. It definitely felt more effective now that his mask wasn't blocking the expression.

"Your turn," he stated triumphantly, smirking a little.

"…Your eyes are really cool."

Thrown off, Finch felt heat rush to his cheeks. "What the hell? So what?" he grumbled. "Now take your mask off!"

"I'm gonna say… no."

"This is some _serious_ bullshit." Lunging forward, the shorter boy grabbed at the top of Devil Lad's pink hood and yanked it down, before he could react; silky black hair flipped around at the disturbance. DL kept it past his ears, and Finch imagined it would be soft to the touch. He couldn't help but pause to stare. He didn't notice the older boy's arm swing around and get him until he was in a headlock at his side. "Dammit," Finch grunted, struggling once again at Devil Lad's strength. _Does he work out??_ He wondered, bewildered. "Get off of me! Get _off_!"

"Hell, Finch," Devil Lad said lowly, "You honestly _don't_ want to do that."

"Yes… I… DO!" Breaking out of Devil Lad's hold, Finch stumbled, accidentally pitching forward a little too far – slipped on the muddy ground and began to fall down the bluff side, eyes wide and breath caught in his dry throat.

Falling wasn't like it was in the movies: screaming, slow motion, and dramatic music. When Finch fell, everything moved _faster_, he didn't even open his mouth, and all hear could hear was Devil Lad's urgent cry of, "FINCH!" As he hurtled over the edge, all he could think of was what DL had said about redeeming him – how could he do it if he died? Who could save Devil Lad _then_? He tried shutting his eyes, but couldn't.

So he saw when Devil Lad dove after him.

The masked boy moved like a bullet – fast and forceful – as he slammed into Finch, wrapping his arms around him in a protective embrace, spinning them in the air so that _he_ would land first.

They broke the cover of trees, the taller boy's shoulders and neck doing all the work. He clung to Finch, holding the shorter boy's head against his chest, just over his heart; Finch's arms came up under his in an almost feminine hug as their legs flew uselessly behind them.

A muffled _thump_ echoed throughout the trees as they crash-landed on the earth. For what could've been an eternity, neither moved. Finally, Finch rolled off of DL, whose grip had gone completely slack after less than a minute, and shakily pushed himself onto his knees.

"…Devil Lad?" he uttered weakly, his body and mind in shock.

There was no answer.

Panicking, Finch whacked at Devil Lad's shoulder, shouting unnecessarily loudly, "DEVIL LAD!" right in front of his face.

No response.

Finch's heart raced, and he felt helpless and guilty as he stared at what he now assumed to be his friend's lifeless body. Quickly, he picked up the teen's arm and checked his wrist for a pulse – nothing.

"Jesus Christ," he choked, his voice cracking, "You – you're dead. You… died to save me."

_No_, he said in his mind, _No fucking __way__. I will _not_ have this – you can't be dead!_ _I've never even seen you properly _injured_!_ "You can't _die_," he told the dead boy, frustrated. "Get up! There's too much I don't understand – too much we haven't done! Get UP, Devil Lad!" In his fury, he beat at the damp soil, feeling hot tears well in his eyes. He hadn't cried in… years. Why was he crying over this? The guy had kept huge secrets from him since the day they met – he knew next to nothing about him! But it destroyed him inside to see Devil Lad dead.

"What am I supposed to do _now_, DL?" he struggled in barely even a whisper, hanging his head and forcing back an onslaught of tears. But even now, his curiosity about the boy's face got the better of him, and he looked tempted by his mask. "I have to know now," he said, as if giving the deceased and himself excuses.

Reaching carefully, Finch gently lifted Devil Lad's mask up. It was too shadowed to see his face well, so he moved it aside.

Finch knew he was blushing.

Devil Lad was extremely gorgeous, much like a male model. His lips were slightly open, and he looked peaceful and… relieved, in a way. Finch now gave himself a reason for bothering the guy about his mask.

He had liked him. A lot. He had liked a boy – a boy with a demon's soul, who died to save his life. And it took seeing his face to realize it.

Fury, embarrassment, guilt, and the worst sorrow he'd ever felt flooded over him; he screamed with all his voice, throwing his head back and grasping Devil Lad's mask in one hand while the other clutched at his pink sweatshirt. Before he fell to weep on DL's chest, he allowed himself to say one thing.

"COME BAAAAAAACK!!"

--------------

"that's your cue," a hunched demon said, holding an arm out toward a bright white portal, "you're lucky you've got that soul. your little boy would be disappointed if you didn't."

"I hadn't even… I didn't even have a clue."

"well, get going – the portal's only open tonight… and it's almost midnight."

"I'm coming, Finch," Devil Lad muttered purposefully, stepping into the light.

---------------

Gasping for air, Devil Lad's previously deceased body sat bolt upright, knocking Finch off his stomach and into his lap; Finch jumped, scrambling backward in shock and horror.

"Devil Lad??"

"You okay, Finch? You didn't get _hurt_, did you?"

"But – you were dead!"

DL shrugged. "Weirder shit has happened." Finch didn't think so, but he said nothing on this.

The recently revitalized teenager seemed to suddenly noticed he could see more peripherally than usual, and a hand flew to his face, checking for – "Where's my mask?" he demanded brusquely, searching feverishly around himself for it.

"…Something's wrong with your eyes," Finch noted quietly, hiding Devil Lad's mask behind his back. "Where'd your irises go – and the white parts?"

"What?" Clearly, he was unaware that his eyes were shrouded entirely in pitch black.

"Are they always like that?"

Frowning, the black-eyed part-demon lowed, "Give me my mask, Finch."

"…Why'd you come after me?"

Ignoring the question, Devil Lad remembered the eyes' consequences and crawled toward Finch menacingly. "Give it back." Backing the confused and scared-looking redhead into a tree trunk, he took the boy's free hand and pulled his entire body closer, drawing up to him so they were face-to-face. "Unless you wanna look at these every time you look at me." The all-black was disconcerting, but when Finch only stared into his eyes, DL knew he couldn't be angry with him anymore. "…Are you okay? Did I absorb enough of the impact?"

"…Why'd you do it?"

Leaning into him, the taller boy whispered, "Cuz I like you too much to let you die."

"You died!" Finch countered.

"Broke my neck and spine." Moving his shoulder in a small circle, a loud pop sounded from his spine. "Yup. Hurts like a motherfucker – but I don't die like that, exactly. _You_ do, so -- _are you hurt_?"

Finch gawked disbelievingly. "I'm fine, but how can _you_ ask me that when _you_ just rose from the _dead_?!"

"I came back for you, dumbass."

Silence. Their eyes burnt into each other's as they locked gazes.

"…How do I redeem you?" Finch asked quietly, "You mentioned it earlier, but I don't get it."

"It's…" In one lightning-fast movement, he reached behind the other boy, took his mask, and put it on his face again, earning a skeptical frown from Finch. "…Complicated. And a lot to ask for."

Squirming a bit under him, the redhead grumbled. "I'll stay as long as I have to. You're gonna leave soon anyway."

Devil Lad's mask stared at him again. But he lifted it and watched Finch blankly for a moment with his unnerving black eyes; Finch was mesmerized. "…Technically, I've already got half the work done."

Taking Finch's head in both hands, Devil Lad gently climbed atop him and pressed their lips together. Finch didn't resist, but didn't partake either, flailing his arms almost comically at his sides; DL released his head and tenderly took his hands, lacing their fingers together and putting them at Finch's sides as he pushed himself further into his kiss. Devil Lad didn't know if this was his best idea, but he was too relieved, too grateful that the smaller boy hadn't been hurt that he couldn't control the desire he'd kept hidden for so long. Finch had no clue about how he'd wanted so badly to protect him, to kiss him the way he was now. For the first time in a long time, the older boy was glad he had a demon's soul.

The redhead found himself at a loss for an excuse to push him off or fight to get free – normally, his thoughts would be screaming, "Danger, Finch, DANGER!" and telling him to nail Devil Lad with a swift uppercut to the gut, yelling obscenities and homophobic slurs all the while. This was the kind of lust for someone else – Finch wasn't _gay_!

…Was he?

Without meaning to, Finch moved in time with Devil Lad, pressing a little back; thrilled he wasn't being rejected, DL began urging Finch toward the ground, moving to lie fully on top of him. They seemed to flow as the younger teen succumbed to the motion, ending up flat on his back with Devil Lad's hands supporting his weight just above his shoulders. The taller boy was heavy, but not the kind of heavy that felt like a burden; Finch realized he didn't want anyone else's body on his when DL eagerly poked against his lips with his tongue, waiting for an invitation into the shorter boy's mouth. Opening slightly, Finch felt a rush of adrenaline pump through him as Devil Lad's tongue met him. Blood flooded south, and he felt himself blush at the erection/

Yup. He was definitely gay.

Devil Lad, feeling Finch's face grow hot, angled himself a little lower, and to his surprise, discovered a boner equal to his own. The pressure on their zippers made them tense, and Finch seized the back of the raven-haired boy's head and yanked him closer; DL slipped one hand under the shorter boy's neck, arching his head up and running his tongue along the roof of his mouth. Finch gasped internally as he learned something new about what he liked in a kiss.

Delighted with Finch's reaction, Devil Lad repeated the motion, almost unconsciously snaking a hand down the boy's shirt, enjoying the little shivers to no end. He felt a cool hand slide from gripping his hair down the back of his neck, and without thinking, brought his knee up to Finch's crotch.

"Do you remember," Devil Lad said between breaths and kisses, "a few years ago when Nips' boyfriend punched you cuz Moochie took her bra?"

Finch moaned shortly in response, excited and terrified of DL's knee placement, kissing the older boy again.

"I really wanted to kill him on the spot. I didn't know _why_, though, so I didn't. I figured it out only two Halloweens ago – who you were to me, and who you were supposed to be to me."

Finch paused in fiddling with the hem of Devil Lad's sweatshirt and furrowed his brow. "The redemption thing?" he asked, recalling cryptic remarks from earlier. "…You said I was supposed to redeem you or something, and then –" He sat up, using his elbows as props. "—And then you said you've already done half the work. So what the hell does _that_ mean?"

"What, you can't tell?"

Finch stared at Devil Lad cynically. "Enlighten me," he said flatly.

Devil Lad frowned, staring into Finch's blue-green eyes with his demonic, pitch black own. Setting a hand on the side of his face, DL whispered, "I fell in love with you."

"…What?"

"Redemption for a demon's soul comes from shared love."

Silence. Devil Lad felt his heart sink. _Stupid_, he scolded himself, _you scared him! You admitted to being part-demon, came back to life after a fatal fall, and started making out with him – there's no_ way _he wouldn't freak out._

"You… love me? Dude."

Snapping his head up from having unintentionally hung it in shame, DL raised his eyebrows. "Yyyesss?" he responded unsurely.

"Well, I don't love you."

Devil Lad drooped slightly. "Yeah. Sorry—"

"But I know I like you more than just a friend would."

"…Are you joshin' me?" DL questioned disbelievingly.

"Not _too_ skeptical," Finch said sarcastically, "Cuz I obviously get my kicks by messing with your head."

"Finch…"

"Devil Lad." Pushing himself up and tugging his legs awkwardly out from under DL, Finch swallowed a thousand other questions and only asked one. "How long have you supposedly felt like this?"

"Probably since the day I met you."

"We were little kids!"

Devil Lad shrugged, moving away from the redhead dejectedly. "Yeah, well, it's not like I wanted to _bone_ you at the time," he objected.

"So you want to 'bone me' now?"

Snapping his head in Finch's direction, Devil Lad burned bright red, his blackened eyes going wide. "Uh – I, uh…" He looked sheepishly away, pulling his hood lower over his head and shoving his hands in his pocket. Finch waited, arms once again crossed. "…I got nothin'."

"Never mind. This 's a lot to take in besides." Leveling himself to his feet and readjusted his scarf, scratching his temple awkwardly. "Look, Devil Lad," he struggled, "you're leaving soon, right?"

"Depends," he answered slowly.

"Same time next year?"

"Count on it."

"But – not before then?"

"…Depends," he said again, quieter.

"On?" Finch came over and stood next to him, looking down at his hood.

Devil Lad slowly rose to stand, scooping up his devil mask and putting it on. He turned cautiously, feeling Finch's gaze follow him – he could tell the boy was a bit disappointed to have to talk to a mask again. Looming over him, having grown two inches taller, DL lowed ominously, "Whether or not you want me to."

Leaning back as the masked boy leaned in, Finch frowned. "I do," he said sharply.

"Good. Then… we'll see." Spinning on his heel and shoving his hands in his pocket, he started walking swiftly away. "Don't forget to find your skull mask," DL called casually over his shoulder, waving one hand.

"… Serious _bullshit_," Finch muttered bitterly, running up behind him and whacking his arm. "Hey! No Houdini crap, okay? Seriously – you'd better come around before next Halloween, or I will find you."

"Oo, I'm scared now," Devil Lad teased, chuckling. A swell of relief bubbled in his stomach and spread to the rest of his body, relaxing tensed muscles. Finch really _didn't_ hate him. "Gonna follow me all the way to Hell?" he joked.

"You wouldn't _let_ me." Finch's eyebrow rose skeptically. "So you _do_ go back to Hell after Halloween."

Devil Lad froze mid-step and turned to face Finch. "I'm going to say… no."

"Oh, really."

"It's not… _technically_ Hell. Kinda like how I'm not _technically_ human anymore."

"Huh."

"Hard to explain."

"Devil Lad," Finch intervened with a sigh, "If you don't come back for a year… what do you expect me to do?"

"…I'm not following."

Throwing his arms up in exasperation, Finch groaned. "You can't come out as both nonhuman _and_ gay, come back from the _dead_, tell me I'm supposed to _redeem_ you and then disappear for 12 months – it's not fair!"

"'Fair'? Since when has anything been _fair_, Finch?" Devil Lad spat, suddenly angry. "All we're good for is bloodlust and horniness!" he added bitterly, regretting taking an inner resentment out on Finch. "I'm not saying I'm a stranger to those—"

"Ha. How could you be?"

"But I never hear the end of it at home. Which I am _not_ getting into," said flatly to Finch's opened mouth, which closed again.

"Just answer me this: You're coming back, right?"

Watching him for signs of signs of mockery and finding none, Devil Lad murmured, "Without fail, dude. I can't just leave you alone."

Finch smiled faintly. "Alrightythen." DL began walking away, leaving Finch alone. "WAIT!" he blurted.

The boy with a demon's soul turned slightly. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. For saving my life, for telling me stuff – y'know, everything."

Under his mask, Devil Lad smiled. "No problem, Finchy."

* * *

So yeah. That was the first installment of x-Redeeming A Demon-x. =3

Hope you liked it. =D Please comment and... stuff. I'm new to actually having an account; before now I just read fanfics, never really looked at feedback and whatnot. So this'll ALL be a new experience for me. X3

Thanks! 3


	2. Chapter 2

'Kaaaaaaaay. Chapter two. I can't really figure out how to read any feedback I might have actually gotten, but I hope whoever's read this far enjoyed chapter one. XD ^_^' Once again, I Luv Halloween and its characters ARE NOT MINE. I've just had them grow up a few years. =]

Enjoy! =3

* * *

"Where are you going with this, Spencer?"

"Nowhere…" Spencer answered slyly with his creepy grin on.

"Uh huh," Finch replied skeptically.

It was January of their sophomore year, and Finch and Spencer (a.k.a., Mister Kitty) were going from Geometry to English via the second floor west hall. Spencer nudged Finch in the ribs with an elbow. "But seriously – you ever _done_ it?" he pressed.

"Hell no. Don't give a damn." Pulling his scarf a little tighter, Finch avoided Spencer's disbelieving gaze. "Some of us can control our hormones," he commented, irked.

"Yeah. Right," the blonde scoffed. "It's pretty cool," he added smugly.

"I'm happy for you," Finch dismissed as he rolled his eyes, turning into their classroom first, "But if you don't _can it_, I will suck your intestines out through your navel – with a Dirt Devil."

"Whatever," the off-duty Mr. Kitty grunted, feigning apathy at the redhead's threat, though a knowing twinge stabbed his gut as snapshots of Halloweens past flashed in his mind. He knew when to actually shut up.

They sat next to each other in the back of the room. Normally, they sat at the back so they could talk more, but in _this_ class, they were more or less forced toward the back – such things happened when you were only underclassmen in a juniors' English class. It wasn't even that they were resented, more that the juniors filled space fast.

A bell rang for class to start, and everyone in the room went quiet; Finch's brow furrowed at the silence, looking up from his lowered conversation about sabotaging Valentine's Day with Spencer. His gaze followed everyone else's to the front of the room, where a weird boy in a gray hoodie stood noiselessly in the doorway before moving to the teacher's desk and setting a small blue paper on their desk. He was weird because for some reason, whenever Finch tried to focus on him, his eyes looked elsewhere, as though the boy were an obstacle in front of something more relevant; eyes evaded him. Like he was… invisible, almost. Others seemed to have the same difficulty, and eventually people began chattering amongst themselves again. There was something familiar about the situation, but Finch couldn't think why.

The hooded boy turned to the class, but Finch couldn't see his face. No, that wasn't right – he couldn't _look_ at it. His eyes did the same skip-over thing they did when he tried to focus on his back.

The redhead's gaze followed the boy as best it could as he made his way unnoticed by the others toward the back of the room. To Finch's surprise, the eye-escaping teenager sat in an empty desk to his left, becoming still as he sat facing forward with his hands in his front pockets. No one else paid him mind in the slightest, as if he'd never entered the room in the first place.

Turning in a hesitant, deliberate way, Finch fried with all his might to look directly at the student all others seemed to ignore. The boy made no move, no sound, and his hood was large enough and wide enough to hide even the end of his nose. Huffing in aggravation, Finch sat hotly back in his seat, looking over at a bored and floppy Spencer.

"Is he new or something?" the redhead hissed.

His perverted friend wrinkled his brow. "Dude. What're you _talking_ about?" he demanded skeptically. "Who?"

Finch scowled, something he'd been good at lately. "Not _too_ oblivious." He's right there," he clarified lowly, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the strangely unnoticeable newcomer.

Leaning back a little, Spencer glanced past his friend. "You on something? Bobby's been here all year."

"Moron – not _Bobby_." Bobby was on the other side of the hooded kid. "I'm talking about the guy _next_ to me!" he said through clenched teeth, frustrated.

Spencer scoffed. "You _are_ on something. Nobody's… there…" He silenced, his blue eyes glassing momentarily.

"…Spencer?" Finch questioned doubtfully.

Shaking his head, the boy otherwise known as Mr. Kitty frowned. "What? Did you say something?"

"Uh yeah – guy next to me?" Finch answered, getting suspicious.

Leaning back the way he had before, Spencer rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. I don't even wanna know what you want with Bobby."

_Bobby? Shit._

Facing forward swiftly, Finch grit his teeth together so hard it hurt. So he was not only the sole person who could notice the new kid, but also the only one who could remember he was _there_.

"Who are _you_?" he pressed slowly, beginning to think he was a target for something, "And why am _I_ the only person who isn't ignoring you? You're not a regular in this class –"

"Actually, I am. You've only just noticed me is all."

Thrown off at the deep-voiced response, the redhead stumbled. "W-what?"

The hooded teenager chuckled darkly, fueling Finch's irritation. "'S true."

"That doesn't explain why you escape people's attention," Finch countered swiftly, snapping his head in the others' direction. He was _not_ going to be knocked off-track. "Who _are_ you?"

"I think you already know."

_Oh, cryptic AND invisible. Fun_, Finch thought bitterly. " _I_ don't. I can't even see your face."

For a split second that felt like it lasted hours, the hooded boy leisurely turned to face is challenger. The hood cast the blackest of shadow across his face, and Finch _still_ couldn't make out a single feature – which pissed him off to all hell.

"Maybe you aren't looking hard enough, Finch," the boy suggested enigmatically.

A familiar sense washed over him, and Finch's narrowed gaze as that black shadow stared mercilessly back at him. His eyes diverted themselves, but Finch was determined to truly _look_ at the face obscured by darkness. The boy's voice resonated familiarly, too, but Finch simply couldn't place it. Pushing all the other thoughts out of his mind, he finally focused exclusively on the boy.

Gradually, the shadows seemed to reseed, and facial features began to appear: a nose, a chin, and cheekbones. Finch's heart raced as more of the other's face revealed itself under his concentration. A name that escaped him only a few minutes ago for the first time in a long time slammed vindictively into the front of his brain. A name only commonly brought up one day a year – on Halloween.

_Devil Lad_, his thoughts whispered secretively.

"…What are you doing here?" Finch whispered almost weakly, realizing he'd stopped breathing for a few seconds, his pulse racing and his leg starting to bounce involuntarily. "Do you go here?" he continued, his voice nearly cracking. He couldn't look at him anymore, for fear of burning bright red.

Slightly hurt that Finch had turned away, the hooded boy let out a small bit of relief encourage him – the redhead figured it out, and fairly fast, considering. "Maybe," he allowed, slipping his notice-of-absence sheet further into her front pocket. "Wouldn't you have noticed earlier?"

"Yeah, about that – it's kinda hard to 'notice' you _now_." Making the air quotes under his desk, he frowned. "Care to explain?"

"Finch, who're you talking to?"

Startled, the redhead turned to Spencer, who looked extremely skeptical and slightly concerned. "Dude, you're doing it again. You gotta be on _tons_ of shit. I mean, I know you're insane – but there's a _limit_. You're talking to yourself, dipshit." Leaning away from him, the blonde glared suspiciously. "You goin' senile early or somethin'? Cuz it's a damned good reason to kill ya."

Finch felt the friend behind him tense as the friend before him spoke. "Yeah, Spencer," he answered, looking dully at him, "Not _too_ much overreaction. I'm not senile, you bastard."

"Then quit dickin' around and shut up! For _real_, you're freakin' me out."

Glancing sideways at DL, Finch felt a small pain in his temples, as if even at a peripheral view he was forbidden to be seen. "Dammit, Devil Lad," he muttered.

Chuckling, Devil Lad murmured, "Find me after class."

Finch turned his head to him slowly, and even though it hurt mildly to try, he stared disbelievingly. The seemingly dark hood turned away slightly and then back to Finch; DL scratched his head. "Right. I guess I'll find _you_." Finch responded with a grunt.

--------------------------------

When the bell rang, Spencer whacked Finch's upper arm, standing up rapidly and getting his papers in a messy pile. "See ya in seventh. That is, unless you don't keel over from a heart attack first, geezer."

"The fuck? I _said_ I wasn't senile!"

Raising a hand in acknowledgement on his way out the door, Spencer disappeared. Still irked, Finch gathered his things with a deep frown. He used to be less irritable, and much more even-tempered – as a basically self-proclaimed leader of his group of friends, he learned keeping his cool helped them through bizarre ordeals. But for the last two years, his stupidity and frustration tolerance levels had dropped gradually, until he became easily annoyed. He still had the dark streak that allowed him the ability to be the only one in the room watching the screen when a horrible horror film displayed its most gruesome scenes, and he could certainly stayed calm when lycans devoured half the town two Halloweens ago, but for some reason his patience for bullshit started eroding. He wasn't sure why.

A cool hand and a strange smell rested on his shoulder, and he relaxed slightly.

"Took you long enough to notice, Finchy." Devil Lad's voice was a combination of hurt and mockery. "Thought I'd make it all the way until next Halloween."

"What – whaddaya _mean_?" Finch demanded, every nerve in his upper body racing to his shoulder, his left ear tingling with the sound of his voice. "…So you _do_ go here!" he challenged, the epiphany setting in. Whirling, he pointed in accusation with the other, his eyes treacherously leaping away from Devil Lad's face. "Why didn't you tell me _earlier_?? Like WHEN I ASKED?! You show up outta _nowhere_!"

"It wasn't up to me."

Thrown, Finch blinked. "What?"

"Even if I told you, you wouldn't 've been able to notice me –"

"Yeah _right_—"

"Until the time was right… for you."

"I would've _wanted_ to find you!" Finch protested, offended. He was aware of DL shaking his head.

"It doesn't work like that," the older boy murmured remorsefully, inducing a bit of hesitation into Finch's thoughts. "It's not a matter of 'want.'" The other boy's mouth shut expectantly; DL put his hands in his front pocket and sighed. "Let's walk or something. You've got another class, right?"

"It's only study hall," the shorter boy replied, tugging lightly at his scarf.

Nodding, DL began walking toward the door. "Cool."

Then he vanished.

Panicked, Finch leapt backward, emitting a small gasp. Looking around the empty classroom frantically, he called out. "Devil Lad?" When there was no reply, Finch blinked rapidly and rubbed at his eyes. For a moment, his heart stopped, and a terrifying notion occurred to him.

Did he just… _imagine_ everything?

Suddenly a hand seized his own, and he started; Devil Lad stood directly in front of him, gazing anxiously into his eyes with demonic, bright red irises, his expression desperate. As soon as he could provide his mind and heart proof that he _wasn't_ hallucinating DL's presence, Finch allowed the breath he held to be released.

"Oh, good," he whispered to himself.

"Sorry about that," Devil Lad apologized hastily, gently pulling him along, "Sometimes the Illusion might shift pretty fast. If I make direct contact with you, though, you should be able to see me clearly."

"…Your eyes are weird again." It may have been irrelevant, but it was all he could think to say. "And not even like _last_ time," he added suspiciously as Devil Lad took his hand, guiding him swiftly down an empty hall, "Do you even _have_ normally-colored eyes? Ever?"

"Okay, not _too_ distractible," Devil Lad muttered, weary but amused.

"How does your… almost-invisibility thing _work_, anyway?" For a moment, he thought he couldn't focus on Devil Lad again, so he squeezed the hand in his nervously; DL instantly came into sharp focus, glancing back at him unsurely.

"Well, as you apparently figured out for yourself," the boy with a demon's soul began, "firm physical contact dissipates it. The Illusion isn't terribly complicated." He seemed to dart rapidly down hallways, zigzagging even in open space, as if it would make their trek faster. Finch wasn't entirely positive where he was being taken. "It's kinda like a spell – but _I_ don't get to cast it, and it only works for so long on so many people. Like, how you can… sorta see me now, without touching my skin; anyone who's had real contact with, well, the supernatural can see me the same way, even if I don't want them to. And if you were, say, at least part-demon, you'd be able to make eye-contact with me without physical contact." Devil Lad stopped in front of a large window in one of the science corridors, turning to his redheaded companion, looking him right in the eyes.

Startled, Finch blinked, withholding a small blush. "What?" he ventured.

"If I let go of your hand right now…" And he did.

Finch's treacherous eyes leapt away from DL's face, landing his sight outside the window onto the roof instead; he tried to focus on the taller boy, but yet again couldn't.

"…you wouldn't be able to look at me. Not _really_, anyway."

Thrusting his arm out in front of him, Finch attempted to find Devil Lad's hand once more; the boy stepped aside simultaneously, easily dodging the other's groping hand. "The Illusion basically paints an invisibility around me – where you can see me, but don't _notice_ me. Your mind is supposed to dismiss my presence… but yours _doesn't_. Not anymore, at least."

A warm pressure met Finch's fingertips, and at last he could properly see his Halloween enigma. Without really knowing it, he gave a small smile.

"People sense my location, so they unwittingly move in crowded places and let me through. You're the first person I've touched in years."

There was an odd stroke of sadness and anxiety in Devil Lad's words, and his crimson eyes masked a heavier sorrow as well. Finch found himself frowning. He tried pointing the conversation's topic in a different direction.

"Where does it come from?" he questioned quickly. DL raised an eyebrow. "I mean, how come it doesn't happen on Halloween?"

Devil Lad stared hard at him, ruby orbs flashing. The younger boy mirrored his raised brow expectantly, and then he got the hint. Eyes widening slightly, he murmured, "Your eyes?" Devil Lad looked away silently, and Finch knew he was right.

"That's what the mask is for," the shorter of the two stated gravely, finally understanding, "So we can look at you." DL's grip of his hand slackened, and Finch held tighter. "No you _don't_," he muttered, determined. "Your eyes _are_ always an abnormal color," he said, mostly to himself. "But – your eyes were completely black that time you… me…"

"Heh," Devil Lad scoffed tightly, "Coming back from Hell does that."

Finch blanched, a feat for someone of his pallor. "Hell?" he echoed smally.

His friend gave him a dark, grudging smirk. "Not too ironic – you had that idea before, didn't you? That I came from Hell? Nothin' wrong with goin' _home_ when you die."

The hurt look Finch wore sent a stab of guilt and shame through DL's chest. He really had to stop taking his resentment out on the guy. Shutting his scarlet eyes and sighing heavily, Devil Lad shook his hooded head. "Sorry. I didn't mean… it's not your fault or anything –"

"It's okay," Finch interrupted in a tiny voice, his head hanging, "I guess… I know. Sounds like life really sucks for you." There wasn't a single tone of anger or sarcasm in his words, and DL felt the first pangs of worry settle in his gut. "Sorry."

The word had come out almost in a whisper, and the teenager with the soul of a demon wanted to slam his raven-haired head into the window's glass and console the presently silent redhead with a tight hug concurrently. _How can I be so stupid, turning this into a pity party for myself??_ He yelled at himself internally.

"Finch?" Devil Lad murmured. "Finch, lookit me…"

Slowly, the smaller boy brought his face up to meet Devil Lad's gaze, his own eyes threatening to mist over. "Hell doesn't deserve you," he stated quietly, bravely announcing the thoughts he'd had for a decade at least.

In that instant the boy with a demon's soul knew Finch was the one. Gently, he held the side of his face and drew his closer. This time Finch was prepared – he nearly hesitated, but thought better of it and closed his weary eyes, letting his heart take control of his body and sending his brain off for a nice nap.

Their lips met.

Sheer ecstasy raced through them both, jolting their hearts and causing shivers to run along their skin. Finch thought vaguely that this was much better than last time, pondered on how gay that sounded, and then almost laughed at the realization at how much he could care _less_ anymore.

_No, no!_ Devil Lad's thoughts screamed. _What do you think you're_ doing?! _What if you hurt him?_ He flinched at even the notion. _What if he forgets you again?_ Pulling away, DL couldn't look the boy in his hands in the eye.

With shaky breaths, Finch clenched and unclenched his fists, suspecting he'd done something wrong. "You didn't even try," he whispered, hazily unpromising.

"I couldn't," the taller offered, guessing on what Finch meant. "Even if I wanted to, it wouldn't 've mattered…" He dropped the hand on the younger boy's face.

"So you didn't _want_ to reveal yourself?" the redhead swiftly countered.

"If you weren't ready, you would've forgotten!"

Speechless at his outburst, the redhead blushed, unaware of how it made Devil Lad feel. Thoughtlessly, he reached for the older boy's other had and brought it to his cheek, resting lightly on his knuckles. "I'm sorry," Finch murmured in a morose tone as Devil Lad bit down hard on his lower lip, his long fingers aching to properly caress the skin beneath them. "I don't _want_ to forget."

"Finch, _please_," DL struggled, trembling somewhat.

"How can I redeem somebody I only see once a year?" He tried to meet the boy's gaze, but he still looked away. "Will I have to hold your hand all day to make you visible? Would I be able to rid you of your cloaking device?" he half joked, giving a short laugh.

"No," came the strangled reply, "One, you'd still be the only one to see me, and two – it's here to stay. Illusions are like defense mechanisms for people like me and full-fledged demons."

"Defense?" Finch inquired encouragingly, glad that he could learn more and get Devil Lad to talk to him at the same time. "Against what?"

"More like 'whom:' _humans_, of course. You're more dangerous than you think." Taking a steadying breath, Devil Lad calmed the surge of emotions rushing to more than one place. "But then again… so am I."

Finch didn't like the way he said that. "That supposed to scare me?" he challenged defiantly, stretching the hand on his face out to its full length, secretly ecstatic at how warm DL's palm was. "You know me better…"

"Do I?" Devil Lad remarked dubiously, wishing he could adjust his pants. His other hand laced into Finch's hopefully; Finch stepped a little closer.

"Devil Lad," the redhead said darkly, "I'm ready for you to come out of your Illusion. Do it."

The command's intensity threw him, and the boy with a demon's soul wished he could obey it. "I _can't_," he admitted sadly, at barely a whisper. "I'd have to cover my eyes."

"So do it! Wear your mask again!"

"Can't…"

Scowling, Finch demanded, "Why _not_?"

Devil Lad chuckled, surprising them both. "It's against dress code."

"Fuck the _dress code_!" Finch exclaimed irately, throwing their linked arms dramatically up in the air. "I want to _look_ at you on a regular basis! Is that too much to ask??"

Devil Lad couldn't stand it anymore. "I'm going to say… no." Releasing Finch's hands for a split second, he disappeared.

Finch almost cried out, for fear Devil Lad had left, but he was quickly wrapped in a strong embrace, pulled into the taller boy's chest, his head resting on his shoulder. Without a second thought, he brought his own arms around DL's waist. "Why doesn't this feel wrong? I mean, we're both guys, and I'm supposed to – _we're_ supposed to love each other so your soul gets redeemed?? There's gotta be something wrong about this…"

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why's there gotta be something _'wrong'_ about it? We're not _hurting_ anybody."

"But—" Finch stumbled, clutching the back of Devil Lad's sweatshirt tensely.

"And since when did you believe in what religions say? Believe _me_ – I've met God, and She really _does_ love everybody."

"'She?'" Finch echoed, distractible.

"Sure. God's a chubby black woman. Looks like Whoopi Goldberg, actually…" He seemed to think aloud. "Besides, the only difference between a 'normal' couple and a gay couple is a set of genitals. If a man is allowed to love a woman, why would loving another man be all that different?"

"Gay…"

Rolling his eyes amusedly, Devil Lad chuckled with relief, holding Finch out at arm's length. The shorter boy frowned contemplatively, debating on morals and ethics he suddenly recognized he never had, cared or thought about in the first place.

"Devil Lad…" he began, slowly coming to a decision, "Prove it."

Though it was usually Finch's reaction, DL blinked. Furrowing his brow, Devil Lad asked carefully, "Prove… _what_?"

"What you said on Halloween. Prove to me that you love me."

The stubbornness and challenge of Finch's command drove in the last nail of the carpentry project otherwise known as Devil Lad's resistance, renaming it 'lust' the same way ordinary vanilla ice cream gets called 'French Vanilla' after the addition of an extra egg or two. It was all he needed to heed Finch's orders.

"Yes, _sir_," Devil Lad murmured, pushing his smaller counterpart up against the space of wall between the corridor's windows and pinning his wrists above his head with a single hand once again. He cupped the side of Finch's face, which looked momentarily frightened, and kissed him gently. Devil Lad's insides melted when Finch's fear did, as he pressed more deeply into his kiss, working the boy's lower lip hungrily. His thumb stroked the soft tufts of hair that fell before the shorter boy's ear, wandering up into the rest of his autumn-colored head. He was vaguely surprised at the lack of product in his hair – it must naturally defy gravity.

Finch moaned quietly, shifting a little under Devil Lad's somehow kind grasp, daring himself to control his excitement; he wanted _more_. Nervously, he let his mouth fall slightly open, and shivered delightedly as DL took the invitation and urgently pushed his tongue inside. Repeating the tried-and-true method, Devil Lad ran his hot tongue along the roof of Finch's wet mouth, growing more eager as the redhead pulsed with him.

Letting go of Finch's wrists, Devil Lad brought his hand to the back of the shorter boy's neck, pulling him even closer; Finch didn't resist, instead snaking his hand up the other boy's shirt-back experimentally. Thrilled he was exploring, Devil Lad kissed Finch even more feverishly, dragging his hand down the front of his chest almost teasingly. Shivering at the touch, the younger teenager massaged at DL's back with both hands; as if not to be outdone, Devil Lad moved his kisses downward, using one hand to loosen Finch's scarf and get at the sensitive skin underneath. His monstrous hard-on threatened the zipper of his skinny jeans, and on a sneaky whim, he thrust a thigh between the shorter boy's legs, earning a muffled, surprised squeak – sure enough, Finch was hard as stone, too.

He couldn't resist.

Dropping his scarlet scarf, Devil Lad ventured further south; unbuckling Finch's belt, he began tenderly kissing his quivering lips once more. As he reached the button and started at the zipper, the redhead jolted under him, and DL sensed great unease, fear leaking back into his mind. The boy with a demon's soul hesitated at the sound of a tiny whimper.

"…Finch?" he questioned softly, embarrassed.

"Can you – not there," he begged in a small voice, as if ashamed to ask.

Devil Lad obligingly pulled his enthusiastic hand away, putting it back on the side of the redhead's face, a little disappointed. Kissing Finch's forehead, he murmured, "Never without your permission. Sorry."

"'Sokay," he muttered bashfully in return, flushing a vibrant red. "I don't _mean_ anything by it, I just –" He brought his hands to DL's hips.

"I understand," the older teenager said, nodding. He drew Finch to himself again, hugging him close. For a while they stood like this, both feeling a bit guilty and ashamed of themselves.

The distant sound of clacking heels stirred them, and Finch watched with wide eyes as his algebra teacher passed them by without a backwards glance – in fact, it was as if she didn't even know they were there.

"…Devil Lad?"

"Hm?"

"Don't 'hm.' Why couldn't she see us?"

"Oh. Yeah. Didn't I tell you?" Finch waited. "The Illusion shifts to you, too, when we touch."

"Huh." Finch pondered this. "Okay… and Devil Lad?"

Unsure of what could be asked of him next, DL said guardedly, "Yeah?"

"You met God??"

Devil Lad chuckled. "Nice supreme being. Likes shortcakes. Remind me to tell you about it sometime."

"Better stick around, then," Finch warned as menacingly as he could.

Another thrill shot through him. "Yes, _sir_," said the boy with a demon's soul.

* * *

Kk. End chapter two! I'm not so good at ending things, so I hope this at least didn't have a crappy ending. There's more to come, I'm just a slow/lazy typer. Patience, bitte. ^_^'

(This was a lot shorter than I thought it was... _)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Yeah, so I give Pig-Pig a name in here… Preeeetty sure it's not his real name, cuz I don't think they ever give it. I know it's dorky, but please go with it. XD

When I was typing this, I kept using "him" instead of "his," like I was Tia Dalma or something… it was weird. XD But I fixed it, so don't worry.

Thanks for readin'! ^_^ Hope it's satisfactory at least.

* * *

A month ago, Finch had been discussing ways to sabotage St. Valentine's Day with Spencer, a.k.a., Mister Kitty, but now that the holiday loomed only a few sunrises away, he was trying to remember if they'd made any official plans. Some part of him – a recently activated part – sincerely hoped they hadn't, while an older, more juvenile part couldn't wait to wreak havoc on the infamous day of love and couples. It seemed unlikely, however, since the day the two best friends had begun to concoct a brilliant scheme, a mysterious, heart-stopping "stranger" had finally come to be _properly_ in the redhead's life. The clever teen was reevaluating his annual tradition of ruining everyone's heart-shaped holiday, as he suddenly found himself wanting to join the ranks of starry-eyed saps everywhere… he wanted to spend it with someone special…

_I should ask DL if he wants to do something special_, the permanently scarf-ed boy pondered dazedly as he walked past a poster in the hall advertising candy-grams. Then he realized how cliché the thought sounded, even just in his head, but as the boy rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose at himself, he caught another thought sneaking in.

Devil Lad was guiding him down a narrow hallway – Finch recognized it as the odd corridor coming off his English class, currently only used for homecoming decoration storage – wearing his classic pink hooded sweatshirt, his devil mask hanging limply with its frozen, mad grin in his free hand. The taller boy tossed aside the hoisted him onto a clear countertop and leaned into him. Their lips met in a hot fever, and Devil Lad held the side of his flushed face so gently, so _honestly_ that the smaller boy had no choice but to melt into him. Seizing his hood and wrenching it down, Finch took a fistful of the part-demon's silken black hair and pulled him closer, opening his mouth slightly and accepting the hot tongue that eagerly pushed in. DL's warm hand snaked up the back of his shirt before plunging beneath the waistline of his tight pants, teasing the lining of his underwear before sneaking past and squeezing; Finch moaned and flinched, grasping his boyfriend's hair tighter and grazing his scalp with his nails.

"The fuck are _you_ dreamin' about?" came a brusque, distrusting voice.

Falling back to earth, Finch blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if to shake off his embarrassing fantasy. "Y—what?" he slurred.

Spencer, Finch, Tommy (a.k.a. Pig-Pig), and Devil Lad sat at a round lunch table, with Devil Lad sitting silently at Finch's side, unseen by the other two; Finch had managed to go through the motions of reaching the lunchroom, buying lunch, and sitting down while lost in his daydream. Spencer and Tommy both stared unsurely at him, who had only moments ago been staring numbly in front of him for quite some time with nothing but a distant smirk and vibrant blush. Devil Lad, right up against the distractible guy, watched him carefully, fantasizing himself about what he could've been imagining.

"You've been reading porn, haven'chu?" the short brunette asked, as if slightly put-off.

"Dude, who the fuck _reads_ porn?" Spencer scolded; Tommy flushed light pink and looked away. "Nah, if anything, Finch's been _watching_ some steamy stuff…" Grinning at his own pervy recollections, the blonde waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Huh, huh?"

Cheeks still burning, Finch sighed with exasperation. "Whatever you say, sicko."

"I'm surprised porn actually occurred to you, Piggy," Spencer commented snidely, shoving the tiny boy's shoulder almost proudly. "You're learning!"

While the two went off on some mindless squabble, Devil Lad leaned into Finch's ear. "Were you thinking what _I'm_ thinking?" he challenged slyly, in what was on the verge of becoming his sexy voice. You could _hear_ his delighted smirk.

"Unlikely – _yours_ is probably dirtier," Finch retorted knowledgably in a voice only he could hear, folding his arms and keeping his gaze on his arguing friends. His nearly invisible lover chuckled in amusement.

"I'm gonna say yes." An arm slipped casually under the younger teen's neon blue shirt and around his waist. DL leaned in further. "Is that so wrong?"

Heart going into overdrive at the placement of Devil Lad's warm hand on his stomach, Finch smirked anxiously. "I didn't say that," he murmured, tensing the tiniest bit as damp, hot lips pressed into his jaw line.

"…Valentine's Day?"

"What?" Finch blurted awkwardly, jumping a little in his seat and pulling away from Devil Lad as selective hearing resulting in the holiday's mention from Spencer distracting him. "What about Valentine's Day?" he reiterated.

Momentarily thrown off-kilter, the blonde had to pause before focusing on Finch, as if he'd just remembered he was there. "Wanna do something about it?" he suggested mischievously, glancing around with shifty azure eyes and moving in closer to his redheaded friend. "Another prank, like last year's dead doves in the candy-gram deliveries? Duh?"

An unfamiliar hesitation stopped his immediate, would-have-been-enthusiastic reply, and Spencer was instantly aware of it. "I dunno…" Finch eventually said, avoiding his narrowed gaze. "Maybe we're getting too old for this."

"That's bullshit, Finch," the dirty-minded teenager spat, glaring suspiciously. _He's never thought _twice_ about sabotaging Valentine's… Why __now__?_ "Unless…" he thought aloud, expression flattening as a strangely disturbing possibility cropped up in his practically one-track mind. "…You've got yourself a girl." Something sounded wrong about that sentence. "Finch."

"No," Finch admitted easily, smirking to himself with the secret truth. "I most definitely do _not_ have myself a girl." At his side, Devil Lad snorted.

"Than why _not_?" Spencer demanded hotly, not buying his words.

The disbelief in his friend's voice made coming up with an excuse more difficult than it should've been. "Uh…" he began unsurely.

Something warm touched the skin just above the line of his pants, and Spencer and Tommy steadily grew glassy-eyed, losing interest in what Finch had to say, instead becoming engrossed in a porn mag the taller of the two produced suddenly, recalling its existence. As they leaned conspiratorially forward, placing the dirty magazine between them on the bench as if their redheaded friend wasn't there at all. With a thrill shooting through him, Finch allowed his head to be gently turned, and his lips to be sweetly kissed. Devil Lad had been abusing his contact-spreading Illusion as of late, making the shorter boy disappear to others whenever he pleased.

Pulling back briefly, the boy with a demon's soul smirking triumphantly at his partner's panting. "I sensed the conversation was getting a little too awkward for you," he explained, needlessly justifying his actions. "Thought I'd help out."

"Am I supposed to thank you?" Finch teased. "You want a reward or something?" he said, though it wasn't clear if it was a dare or not.

Devil Lad took it as one anyway. "Well, since you're offering…"

-------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer was vaguely aware of some inkling of jealousy in his gut. He was _not_ aware, however, of Devil Lad leading Finch into the hall and toward the nearest empty classroom. The only logical explanation – and the blonde wasn't big on logic – was that Finch had finally found someone. And for some reason, the idea of Finch being with someone – holding hands, kissing, even screwing – seriously made him invidious. Finch was his best friend, his partner in crime, his brains of the outfit! If Finch suddenly started occupying his time with some _girl_, where would that leave him? _What about poor ol' _me_?!_ He flustered in his head.

The former Pig-Pig watched his friend fumble silently in his own head, worried that he might do something stupid; Spencer was notorious for such things, and even Tommy could figure that Finch wouldn't be there to compromise his idiocy. While Tommy was dumb, Spencer was stupid.

"Spencer?" he tried to ask, but the blonde waved him off, frowning in thought. Tommy felt his heart drop into his stomach, dejected.

_Well, this won't do at all._ Spencer was having weird feelings about a _guy_ – FINCH, no less. He was going to have to do something about it, and there were only two options: Find the unlucky bitch and rip her to shreds with the nearest pair of scissors, or… Spencer was never one to turn down a chance for sexual stimulation, and he'd be DAMNED if gender stopped him.

--------------------------------------------------------------

There was something surreal about pressing the one you love up against a wall and kissing the crap outta them – a kind of trippy ecstasy, like he'd taken a dozen stimulants with the color warping chemical removed. DL didn't actually know from experience what drugs were like (they were just as easy to come by in Hell as they were on the surface), but he imagined the good ones felt like this. Finch's hands were in his hair, fisting and stroking, fueling his desire; his own hands slid lower down the younger boy's back, feathering over the skin above his belt. Oh, how he wished he could go _lower!_ But the redhead was still too nervous to let him touch there, so he held back respectfully, as hard as it was.

"Devil… Lad?" Finch tried, mouth still under attack by the hooded teen's tongue. "Wanna… do something… for Valentine's Day?" he asked bashfully.

The question was _so_ uncharacteristic, the taller boy gave a short laugh. "I never thought those words would – _could_ come out of your amazing mouth."

"How do you know it's amazing?" the redhead interrogated, "Unless you've kissed someone _else_ before?"

"Why should I have to compare to know it's amazing?"

The shorter boy considered this, admitting to himself he was being stupidly jealous of nothing, and slightly girly. "Right. Sorry." Devil Lad's fingertips ghosted over his neck, taking hold of his scarf; he loosened it leisurely, making Finch suck in quickly with anticipation. "Thank you," he said in a tight, tiny voice.

"You're very welcome," the boy with a demon's soul murmured sensuously, into the smaller boy's neck, planting a kiss on the pale, cool skin. He held his back with splayed fingers, using the other hand to support Finch's head as he craned back to give him access. Smirking proudly, Devil Lad thought on how he'd taught his beloved on how to receive the things he wanted to give him; the redhead was less stubborn about it now. Teasing him with tiny touches of his tongue, he sucked lightly in a place on would expect a vampire to embed his fangs. Finch sighed, his grip on DL's hair slackening and his balance faltering; the taller boy had never done _this_ in the five weeks he'd finally gotten to be with him, and it was a good thing Devil Lad's weight was holding him in place, for he would've melted to the floor if it weren't.

Relishing in the unique, apple-cider-inclined flavor of the boy, Devil Lad gave his newly administered hickey a soft kiss, smiling happily to himself. It was a little reminder of who loved him, and he hoped the younger teenager would be able to recognize that.

"To answer your question," Devil Lad eventually began, abstaining from pressing a thigh in between the redhead's unstable legs, "You were my first kiss, so no worries there." He'd had his eye on him for years, and besides – kissing was basically out of the question for a gay part-demon shrouded in Illusion 364 days out of the year. Holding Finch's free hand to his lips and kissing his chilly fingertips, DL gazed into his green-tinted blue eyes. "I don't plan on experimenting with other mouths just to prove you've got the best, just so you know," the older teen explained with a smirk.

"Good," Finch stated, feeling heat rush to his cheeks under Devil Lad's crimson stare; how many times before January had he dreamed of what those once pitch-black orbs looked like on a regular basis? Every color under the sun had tried out for the part, but he never really thought they'd end up being such a dangerous scarlet. He couldn't help the thrill that raced through him every time he locked gazes with his supernatural boyfriend.

Devil Lad smiled in an uncharacteristically dreamy way. "And yes, Finch. I would _love_ to do something for Valentine's."

----------------------------------------------------

After school, when Spencer made up his mind, he grabbed Finch's arm and pulled him aside in the hall once they'd left class. The redhead hadn't been subjected to such a rough grip since DL's first desperate moves on him the previous Halloween; Spencer's hold was somehow different, though. It was heavier with another sentiment, a darker one – Finch didn't yet know to call it jealousy.

"Uh, Spencer?" Finch questioned unsurely, tugging his limb back as if personally offended. "Why the hurry?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

The blonde turned on him swiftly and put both hands on his shoulders, eyes livid with energy and impulsiveness; Finch's brain sent up a little red flag, but he wasn't paying attention, too distracted by Spencer's sudden strength. "…Not here. We gotta be alone," he finally decided, seizing his friend's wrist and dragging him toward the languages hall. The slightly smaller boy looked over his shoulder and appeared to mouth to nobody, "_I'll be right back_."

Slipping inside a classroom as a teacher locked the door before shutting it, Spencer rushed Finch to the blackboard, decided it wasn't good enough, and brought him instead to along table – the only one in the room without a chair attached to it. "Yeah," he declared aloud, sitting his friend down.

"You got a girl?" he asked bluntly, staring point blank.

Finch blinked. Didn't they already have this conversation? "Uh, I told you no."

"Cuz you're actin' like it." His crystal blue gaze bore into slightly greener eyes. "I know you, man, and you _never_ turn down a chance to put dead bird's in preps' lockers and make it mean something." Slamming his hands down on either side of the redhead's hips, the blonde otherwise known as Mr. Kitty leaned in menacingly. "Spit it out – you _like_ someone, _don'chu_?" he challenged, relentlessly following Finch as he turned slightly away.

"_Jesus_, you're nosy today. What gives?" the barely shorter boy mumbled disapprovingly, frowning. Something wasn't right – he could see some strange determination in his good friend's usually bored eyes. _Tread lightly_, Finch told himself, _Something's about to go down_. He pushed Spencer's shoulder back with one hand, supporting his weight with the other. "And dude, _back off_."

In a surprising show of agility and muscle, the other teenager seized his wrist swiftly, wrenching it past his head and bringing Finch closer to his face, unaware of the jolt of panic it sent through the smaller boy's veins. "_Who is it?_" he demanded through clenched teeth, possessiveness leaping into his actions. "Is it Monica?!"

"No! It's not fucking Monica!" Finch shouted, frustrated and frightened at Spencer's heat. "I don't do freaky religious chainsaw chicks!" He tried pulling his arm back.

"THEN WHO _IS_ IT?!" the blonde yelled forcefully, bringing the boy's arm down.

"NONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKING BUSINESS, PUSSY CAT!!" Finch raged in return, suddenly furious, his face flushing as he scowled. He almost wanted to sock him, but refrained. "What the hell does it matter to _you_, anyway?!"

"Don't leave me behind, goddammit!" the larger teen snapped, reaching into his back jeans pocket. "Some girl over your _friends_? What the hell?!"

"I told you, there is no gir—" he began, but was cut off abruptly by the sound on clicking metal, his wrists suddenly cold. Looking down, he saw two pairs of handcuffs attach him to either table leg, and shook his hands experimentally. "Where did you get – what the hell?!" he questioned incredulously, anxiety growing. "Spencer, what do you think you're do—"

Not for the first time, he was interrupted; the blonde shoved him hard onto the tabletop, crushing the smaller boy underneath him. "Can't have you leaving me," Spencer mumbled childishly, almost pouting with lips only centimeters from the redhead's. "Can't have someone else holding you."

"What?! What kind of logic is _that_?" Finch protested, wriggling under his friend's weight. "What are you planning to do, exactly? Put me in a cage and keep me locked up forever? You can't just have me all to yourself!" It sounded bizarre to say aloud, not that it was any less bizarre in his head.

"Claim you," he responded darkly.

Finch scoffed. "Friends don't 'claim' each other, Spencer," he pointed out flatly, trying to keep his cool as anger and anxiety built up behind his eyes. "You need help," he added more seriously.

"I 'need' _you_, Finch," the other boy objected. "You're the leader – how the hell are we gonna get along without you?" he asked in a borderline-hurt voice.

"It's just you and Tommy!" Finch bit back, growing increasingly agitated. "And you can't even see how much you'll 'get along' _fine_ with just the two of you!" he explained, rolling his eyes. "Besides – just cuz I'm with someone else sometimes doesn't mean –"

"So there IS somebody else!"

Jaw clamping shut, Finch ignored the strain on his oddly angled wrists for a moment. He glared coldly at his misbehaving friend. "Yes," he uttered icily.

Shuddering at the boy's newly kindled hostility, Spencer glowered. "Fuck that." He brought his mouth to Finch's, forcing his tongue in immediately; the redhead tensed, turning away as best he could, trying to bring hid fists up to smack some sense into the blonde. Obviously, being as he was cuffed to the table legs, his efforts were for naught, and he didn't want to bite down for fear of drawing blood; he found that all he could do was writhe under his captor. Spencer felt his pulse race as the smaller boy struggled, and a twinge of guilt accompanied his excitement. He should try this sort of thing more often.

Before he knew it, his hands were snaking up Finch's shirt, and he habitually checked for breasts – finding none briefly threw him off, but the rougher feel of Finch's mouth shortly explained his lapse of memory. The smaller boy was trembling, his own mind accusing him of some sort of betrayal; someone other than Devil Lad was kissing him!

…Being _touched_, too, it seemed. The hand drifting toward his crotch made him suck in a breath; he suddenly discovered the strength enough to sit bolt upright, knocking heads with his attacker, causing them both to cry out.

"_Fuck_!" Spencer yelped, landing on his butt, which unfortunately for him had gotten less round over the years, and therefore couldn't cushion his fall as much as it could years ago.

"Get off!" Finch shouted, a little late. "Don't touch me!"

"I'm not done yet," Spencer said, shaking his head and pushing himself to his feet. "Who knew I could like guys?" The new surge of unquenchable lust urged him toward his wide-eyed friend once more. "You're showing me brand new horizons," he added almost mockingly, enjoying his position; Finch leaned further and further back as Spencer leaned over him again, the redhead's cuffs clinking as he tried to use his hands. "C'mon, man. Where's your witty reply?"

"Fuck. _You_." Finch scowled deeply, still shaky with all kinds of hurt.

Shrugging, Spencer went for the shorter boy's lips again, but never reached them; something took hold of the back of his orange shirt's collar and yanked. Stumbling backward, the blonde's brow creased. _What the…?_ he thought, just before a powerful blow nailed the side of his face, sending him flying. Dumbstruck, Finch watched with his mouth agape.

Devil Lad stood with his fist raised, snarling furiously with positively livid eyes. A dark, blood red aura swirled around the outline of his body, like a ruby corona, fading slowly as his breathing steadied and his fury subsided. He looked at his trapped boyfriend with worry and guilt, arms falling heavily at his sides; he worried briefly that he might have scared him. Finch stared numbly back, relief and guilt waiting for him to react. The boy with a demon's soul stepped slowly up to him, and this time the redhead didn't shy away from an advance.

"Are you okay?" Devil Lad whispered, holding the younger boy's face in his big hands. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," Finch murmured in return, closing his eyes and bumping DL's forehead with his own. "He's not _that_ stupid…"

"He's still pretty stupid," Devil Lad retorted, smirking.

"Jesus FUCK!"

Startled, Devil Lad jumped back from Finch, and the two looked at the blonde, who remained on the floor, gawking at the boy handcuffed to the table. "What happ – did you –?! I _swear_ somebody just punched me!" he exclaimed neurotically. With a firm shake of his head and a groan, the former Mister Kitty stared wide-eyed at his hands; he shivered, and screwed up his expression. "What the hell am I _doing_?" he asked himself lowly.

"Aren't _I_ supposed to say that?" Finch interjected bitterly, grimacing. "Oh. Wait. I already did!"

"Who the _fuck_ decked me?!" Spencer sidestepped, beginning to stand with wobbly legs, guilt still setting in. "They've got one _hell_ of a right hook," he added, shamelessly impressed; Finch watched dully as the boy started pacing distractedly. "An invisible attacker. Someone who doesn't want me to touch you… maybe arrived on the scene late?" he mumbled to himself. Gasping dramatically, he whirled to point an accusatory finger, causing the redhead to furrow his brow questioningly. "Was it Devil Lad??"

Finch's mouth fell open slightly. _You have _got_ to be kidding me,_ he thought in disbelief. "W-what?" he stuttered stupidly. From the other side of the room, the teenager in question hovered over once more, interested but cautious.

"Devil Lad!" the notorious pervert reiterated. "That crazy bastard _would_ hit me and disappear – fucking _ninja_! How'd he even get i—" He froze, shocked; when he looked at the doorway, he saw the door had splintered and fallen in. "HA!" he shouted suddenly. "That proves it!"

The smaller boy narrowed his gaze and eyed his strangely behaving friend. "Uh… what?" Glancing at the broken door, he was close to being a little embarrassed. "How does that prove anyth—"

"Oh, come ON, sunshine!" Spencer scoffed, starting to seem like himself again, and less like a best-friend-molester. He frowned pointedly. "You haven't noticed?"

"Noticed _what_?" he challenged, suspicious.

"Dude, how do you think you got out of all those final scrapes every Halloween?" the blonde threw back without missing a beat. "Four years ago? With the zombies, and we tried to blow up the town?" Finch shut his mouth. "Who do you think made sure _you_ didn't go up _with_ it?"

Finch shook his head. "That was… I just got far enough away," he tried.

"No," Spencer protested testily, "_I_ just got far enough away. Devil Lad caught _you_ as the blast hit!" Finch's blue-green orbs widened slightly. "Practically _tackled_ you out of the way, and HOW do you thank him? You pass out!" He paused. "Granted, your landing still wasn't very soft. But I swear, that kid is _fire-proof_ or somethin'!" Mr. Kitty didn't notice DL's unnoticeable snicker. "And the next year! How did you manage to escape the range of that stupid temporary virus?"

"I…" Finch started weakly, not bothering to continue.

"And only two years ago, after that vampire and werewolf battle?"

"Lycan."

"WHAT. EVER. Who do you think stopped that wolf when it finally found you? And lemme guess." He paused for effect, crossing his arms and frowning with exasperation. "You did something _last_ Halloween that should've gotten you killed, but didn't. When you went off just with DL an' I went on with Pig-Pig, you somehow survived… I dunno. A fatal fall?" he suggested out of speculation. Finch blushed brightly, and the blonde perked. "Dude. Seriously?"

"It was an _accident_," the redhead protested bashfully.

"So were half the other things, and he _still_ saved you!"

Embarrassed and unable to make eye contact, Finch mumbled, "Yeah…"

Falling silent, Spencer watched his friend carefully, the feeling of treachery and jealousy engulfing his heart, tightening around it mirthlessly. Here he was, explaining how awesome his rival was – and knew it himself as fact – after molesting the object of his confused affections _and_ his best friend. The blonde knew everything he'd just put Finch through was wrong and unfair, and that everything Devil Lad had done for the boy was why he should give up. It didn't take a genius to figure out the devil-masked enigma had always liked Finch "like that." Spencer felt stupid.

"Shit, man," the cat=loving teen groaned, "I'm sorry/" When Finch finally looked at him, Spencer shuffled closer. "I'm really fucking sorry I did this. I know I shouldn't 've, but I don't know _what_ I've been thinking lately. Just – just thought you'd forget about your friends if there was somebody." Without meeting his gaze, the blonde stepped past his silent friend, dropping something small in his lap. "You don't hafta talk to me again."

"Spencer!" Finch called, too late – the other teenager had already jumped over the broken wood and swung himself out the doorway, leaving him almost alone. Almost.

"Don't think I forgot you were here," Finch grumbled to the seemingly empty room. "You _were_ the topic of the last conversation…" A warm palm rested on his hand, and his blue-green gaze focused on a similar scarlet one. "Devil Lad."

"Finch," echoed the boy with a demon's soul. "Looks like Spencer's feeling as shitty as he should."

"He's probably gonna find Pig-Pig…"

"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner," he went on regretfully, jaw tightening in frustration.

Shaking his messy-haired head, the shorter boy said, "It's not your fault. I shoulda noticed something was wrong – he's been acting funny since lunch. Funnier than usual."

Devil Lad leaned in, shaking his hooded head more vigorously than his boyfriend had. "No, it _is_ – I should've followed you guys immediately. I waited too long," he muttered hotly, looking away quickly and tensing. "That moronic cat _touched_ you!" he said, scandalized.

"He didn't get very far," Finch replied, wondering vaguely why he was defending his attacker. Devil Lad's scowl cleared that up – Finch was pretty sure DL would turn homicidal if he found reason enough.

"Yeah? Well, he _tried_," the darker boy lowed, the hostility in his expression clear.

"Devil Lad…" the younger began unsurely, searching for a subject change; the boy dropped his head onto his shoulder, letting out a sigh.

"What," he responded flatly, still immensely unhappy with Spencer, though his tone softened slightly with the redhead resting on him.

"…You really did all those things?" he asked timidly, pulse quickening. "You've always been the reason I make it to November first, haven't you?" Why was it so hard to understand that?

"We're always out past midnight," Devil Lad began, settling, reveling in the warmth of Finch's blush, "So maybe I'm the reason you see the sunrise." There was an uncommon rush of blood to his cheeks, and DL shifted his weight.

Relieved that the older boy was relaxing, Finch moved closer into him, as much as his restraints would let him. "How come you never told me?" he quietly dared to question.

Setting a hand on the side of the smaller teen's face and easing him back slightly, Devil Lad gave him a small frown. "I wasn't sure if it would overwhelm you or not. Last year was a lot by itself, right? Besides, it was sort-of like the Illusion…"

"I couldn't 've noticed until I was _ready_," Finch clarified tightly.

"Let's get out of here," he continued dismissively. Pushing himself up, he turned to go. "Being in here won't help me get a grip…"

"Uh," the shorter boy said, pointedly shaking his cuffed wrists and causing them to clink. "Little help?" he drawled expectantly, raising an eyebrow.

Glancing over his shoulder, Devil Lad spotted where Mister Kitty left the little key. A slow, mischievous smirk crept onto his handsome face. He waited a beat.

As the motionless Devil Lad began to vanish, Finch's eyes widened. "Devil Lad!" he hissed nervously, struggling against his metal bonds.

"HOLY shit!" he shouted in surprise, his lips stolen a split second later as DL took the redhead's face with both hands for a deep, long kiss. The taller boy quickly staked dominance, pushing his impatient tongue into his boyfriend's mouth, bringing one hand down the side of his neck.

"No," murmured the dark boy. "I think I'll have my way with you first," he teased deviously, moving his hand from his lover's neck to the boy's thin chest, ghosting over his nipples. At the redhead's anticipating shiver, Devil Lad felt a spike of lust, and with a fueled fervor, he pressed harder into Finch's hot mouth.

The taller teenager's increasing enthusiasm made Finch's blood race north and south, and he found his hunger grower in time with Devil Lad's; he bobbed back and forth, nibbling occasionally at the boy's upper lip as he in turn bit gently at his lower. Wanting so desperately to touch his demon-souled partner, the younger of the two strained to push himself forward, into DL, when a warm hand snuck under the front of his shirt, and eager fingers pinched the nub that had hardened not too long ago. Finch felt his strength dissolve, and he melted as Devil Lad happily rubbed the erect pink stubs, using his other hand to slowly – teasingly – loosen the scarlet scarf around the object of this affections' neck. At the low moan, the older boy growled, dropping the soft scarf and dragging his fingers through the redhead's messy, gravity-defying locks.

"D-Devil Lad," came a staggered, breathless voice through their urgent kisses.

"Hmmm?" the hooded boy encouraged, bringing his wet lips down over the smaller teen's jaw-line, brushing them lightly over the sensitive skin on his neck.

Panting for a moment, Finch craned his neck back, wanting more thoughtlessly. "Devil Lad, c-c'mon. You – you gotta let me touch you…!" he pleaded weakly, cuffs clinking meaningfully, his monstrous erection commanding him.

Chuckling, DL smirked, licking up along the side of the boy's trachea; he tasted like apples, with the slightest hint of cinnamon, and it was the part-demon's favorite flavor. "Is this the part I tell you I might go a _lot_ further if you touch me?"

Whimpering at the muscle tasting his neck, Finch bit his bottom lip, summoning might enough to thrust his knee significantly into Devil Lad's firm crotch; emitting a small, stunned gasp, the boy with a demon's soul paused, a delighted grin playing on his amazing face. Pulling away a bit, he gazed up at his redheaded boyfriend through pitch-black lashes, smirking excitedly. Finch flushed even brighter than he already had been when DL leaned into him, and his eyes widened unsurely.

"You asked for it, Finchy," DL said quietly, reaching for the seat of the boy's pants; for a split second, Finch panicked, but the taller boy held up a tiny silver key and raised an eyebrow. "Not _yet_, Finchy," he teased, amused.

Finch opened his mouth to retort, but a soft _click _and the release of one of his wrists turned it into a sigh of relief. Once the other was set free as well, he breathed, "_Finally_."

He lunged, pouncing full-force into the shocked part-demon, who fell back on contact, thrown off-guard and off-balance, taking his attacker down with him.

Straddling his hips, the shorter teen lavished his taller partner with kisses, bringing his hands frantically up and down the toned chest and abdomen, through the silky raven hair under the gray hood, and finally resting firmly on the sides of the face he wished he could endlessly gaze at, maybe making up for all the years it had been obscured by a grinning red mask. Devil Lad stared blankly back, still in shock, but shivered as his brain finally caught up with his nerves; he smiled coyly.

"Well, this is an interesting development," he commented lightly, blushing a little bit. "I can honestly say I didn't see that coming."

Finch grinned triumphantly. "Shut up and kiss me, demon boy."

Grabbing the back of Finch's neck, Devil Lad sat himself up and brought the boy's lips crashing into his; closing his eyes, Finch fell forward as Devil Lad eased them both back to the floor, mouths pumping together shamelessly. Feeling his resolve melt as the human's erection pressed just above his own, Devil Lad's hands drifted over the boy's hips, itching to dip under the denim but hesitant to give Finch any reason to distrust him. Feathering up his bare back instead, DL waited patiently.

Sensing something disappointed in his lover's movements, Finch pushed himself up and supported himself with his elbows above Devil Lad's shoulders. "Hey, DL?" he murmured carefully.

Blinking slowly, the boy with a demon's soul angled his head. "Yeah?"

"…You can… I mean, if you wanted…" Finch struggled, pulling a face with indecision.

"What?"

"You can go lower, if you want," the redhead blurted swiftly, burning vibrant red. He said it so fast, however, that it came out for like, "Yookingoloweriffyoowant." He almost regretted saying it.

A genuinely happy smile played on Devil Lad's delicious lips; Finch's blush grew brighter. "Really??" the older boy breathed. When Finch nodded quickly, Devil Lad couldn't help but think he was hopelessly cute.

Crimson eyes flashing, the part-demon smirked. "Are you sure?" In a lightning-quick movement, he reached into Finch's jeans and cupped a buttock; with the surprised, perky expression the redhead gave, DL let his restraint fade away. Finch gasped and fell onto his chest as he followed the curve of his ass and came forward, tracing scribbles on the skin under his navel.

"De-Devil L-Lad…!" he stammered, flinching at the ticklish sensation, grasping onto the older teen's sweatshirt and raising his hips slightly. "W-wait!" he begged, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

Pulling his fingers back, Devil Lad obeyed anxiously. "You want me to stop? You don't have to let me do this now…" he reluctantly allowed.

Devil Lad was gentle. He was soothing, in a way, and the only person he wanted to touch him. Why would letting him actually _touch_ him be so wrong? The boy had made it clear he really loved him, and he obviously didn't want to hurt him… For some reason, he just couldn't get over a _dirty_ feeling, letting himself be touched. But, why?

Preternatural eyes widening in panic, the boy with a demon's soul sat up in urgency, gently wrapping his arms around his shaking partner; the shorter teen had suddenly started _crying_. Flustered, Devil Lad whispered worriedly, "Finch? Finchy, what's wrong?? I won't do that again if you don't like—"

"It's not _that_," Finch interrupted, hurt that DL would think it was his fault again. "It's just – there's this thing I have about… about _touching_ – _being_ touched. Like that." Wiping angrily at his tears, Finch huffed out in frustration. "I don't even know why!" he spat bitterly, grinding his teeth together.

Placing a hand on his head, Devil Lad urged the boy to lie on his chest again, easing smoothly back to the tiled floor, closing his eyes and gently stroking his boyfriend's messy orange hair. Clutching at his hoodie for dear life, Finch frowned at himself, pissed that he could ruin their fun like this. But Devil Lad didn't seem to mind after all, he just played with his untamed hair and hummed quietly a unrecognizable melancholy melody.

"…Hey, DL?" came a timid voice.

"Yeah, Finchy?"

"I promise tomorrow won't suck. And I won't cry."

Relieved that his boyfriend had calmed down a bit, Devil Lad smiled at his hairline, nodding and kissing the top of his head. "That's all right, Finchy. There's no hurry."

"…Hey Devil Lad?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

* * *

Yes, I KNOW my endings suck. Don't hate me. D= TT_TT


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